


Fling the Nth

by Rinari7



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut, charr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Charr, one male, one female, on the beach in Lion's Arch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fling the Nth

He took the bottle of whiskey from her, shaking it. “It's almost empty.”

“Finish it off, then.” She was already pleasantly buzzed from the two—or was it three?--bottles she'd had earlier that evening. The evening sea breeze was cool again her face, her own body pleasantly warm. Alcohol always had that effect on her—the slow creeping fire, the urge to share that heat.

He tipped the bottle up, the last of the fiery liquid running through the neck of the bottle to his lips. She followed it with her gaze.

It wasn't like he hadn't been checking her out earlier that evening. She knew she looked good—blond tiger stripes on a dark brown coat, her unruly braids giving her a mussed-up, approachable look, her blue-green eyes often glinting with some joke or another. And he wasn't so bad himself, with a dark mottled coat, and intense green eyes that studied everything around him. He was a Blood Legion soldier like herself, with a more inside his skull than some, and a mouth on him just dirty enough to suit her tastes. He'd been good company these past few hours.

The green glass clinked as he set it down on a nearby rock, and she shifted to scratch an itch using the boulder she was leaning up against.

“Now we could use another one.” The male Charr's voice was deep, a pleasant rumble that, for some reason, made her want to purr. “Or something else to share.”

She shifted herself to lay on her stomach, her head on top of his arm—the metal of his plate armor cool against her jowls—and nipped at him, playfully, hungrily.

He met her eyes, and she rolled onto her back, slowly running her tongue across her lower lip and her prominent saber teeth, and stretched.

“Should I suggest anything?” Her tone was lazy, low, with a hint of _you-know-what-I-want_ underneath. A self-satisfied grin slid over her muzzle.

He glanced around the area, at the shallow water surrounding the spot promising to warn them of anyone's approach and the rocky outcropping sheltering them from view. “I think I got an idea.”

“Would that idea include fucking me senseless?” She bent one leg, knowing full well the sea breeze would carry the scent of her musk to the male beside her, her claws gliding under her shoulderless tunic. She had waited long enough, and it suddenly all came crashing onto her in a wave of _by Bangar's bloodied sword, I need this so badly_.

She turned, perched on all fours, ready to pounce on him and rip his armor off of him in a very real sense, but he was a step ahead of her, his teeth nipping at her neck and then more gently at _mmmm_ her ears.

She removed his armor, quickly and thoroughly, as he continued to nibble on her ears in a way that made her whine desperately somewhere in her throat, whether she wanted to or not. During the process, her own clothing came off, too and then she was running her claws down his chest and nipping at his neck and she felt more than saw his nostrils flare and his body shudder as he took in her scent.

She preferred being on top. It meant she could please herself best—because males were happy with anything as long as they were inside you. And she was pleasantly full, relishing the feeling of his barbs scraping all of her most sensitive nerves as they set a vigorous rhythm. _By-Blo-oohh-fuck_ this was just what she needed on her first day of R  & R away from the front lines.

Any passers-by heard one of three distinct, keening yowls before the last was joined by a low groan. She lay draped over him for several heartbeats, panting, before she licked him on the cheek and stood, pulling her tunic and skirt back on, the fur on her thighs still wet and matted.

“You know, you weren't half bad. I might not mind another--” she cleared her throat “--guided tour.”

It wasn't every day, but over the course of her leave they did a pretty good job of “christening” most of the city's highlights.


End file.
